


Closer

by brieflyshystarfish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieflyshystarfish/pseuds/brieflyshystarfish
Summary: Emma seeks comfort from Regina.





	

Regina wakes to somebody banging on her door. Instinctively she knows who it is--who the hell else would bang on her door past midnight--but she races downstairs anyway, knotting the sash of her robe furiously. Because what if if it's Henry. What if--

She flings open the door and calms immediately. Emma. Soaked in rain. Like a puppy out too long. Down to the shiver rolling over her. Regina takes a breath, and her eyes soften. Then narrow. Why on earth--

"Touch me. Please, Regina." The words tumble out of Emma's mouth. Water trickles in small rivulets down her neck and Regina just stares at her for a beat too long before grasping her and pulling her into the house. Emma stumbles behind her; Regina spins her around and flicks the light switch on in a fluid gesture. 

"What--" Concern and fear bloom low in her throat. "Are you sick--Emma?"

"No, no," Emma mumbles inarticulately. "Just please--" She reaches out for Regina's hand and plants it, firmly, way firmer than her tone of voice indicates, palm side down above Emma's heart. "Just please touch me. I know I sound crazy. Just please."

Thirty thousand questions roll through Regina's mind, not the quiestest of which is, "Why the fuck has this taken so long?" or "Is this a gay thing or not a gay thing?" but she simply studies Emma's face, her now-closed eyes, then the thrumming of Emma's heart below her hand. 

"So fast," is all Regina can manage, and she's talking about how Emma's pulse is rapid fire and less like a hummingbird than a machine gun, and she's also meaning how close they're standing and how fast Emma's scent has suffused her, and she's talking about how her own pulse has quickened, and she means that, too. 

It's all she says, though, and Emma's head is tipped back and her eyes are closed and this is starting to feel like maybe Emma's not okay, not okay at all. "Emma?" she ventures tentatively when they stretch from seconds into minutes. 

Emma doesn't cry, but it's worse, in a way, when Regina hears her voice, gravelly and unfocused, say, "I didn't want it to be like this, the first...the first time. But I need you to do something for me if you can--and it's okay if you can't and I know it's so much to ask--"

She lapses into quiet, and Regina can't really take this kind of waiting, her heart wants to explode for Emma, make it all right, whatever the fuck is wrong. She forces her voice to be confident, light, strong. "Whatever it is, Emma, we can handle it."

This rouses Emma, it seems, because she gives her head a little shake and lowers her gaze to fasten onto Regina's. "Could you just put pressure on me?"

Her eyes are hooded still, and Regina doesnt know what to make of it, but she knows that Emma has slipped into a deep shiver and so instead of responding to her Regina drops her hand and steps closer and slowly--not sensually, no, but as if to not spook an animal--undoes Emma's scarf. Unzips and then shimmies her arms out of her coat. Hangs the sopping things on the banister. 

Emma's pants are soaked, and so is the shirt below her leather jacket, so Regina surveys her for a second before saying, "Hang on, Emma," and darts to the bathroom for two towels. When she returns, Emma is rooted to the same spot, her eyes mournful and her body fastidiously still.

When Regina stands close again she feels the temperature spike between their bodies. "Emma," she says. "You need to get out of these wet clothes." She surveys her with an expression that would be baleful if not so fiercely and wholly tender. "Now."

But Emma's eyes are closed again and her head is tipped back--why? to not see? or not cry?--and Regina knows what to do, because there isn't another way and it's time they stopped pretending everything always. 

Unbuttoning the shirt is easy; lifting it over Emma's head and unwinding her arms is fine. The bra is soaked through and Regina wants to kiss her, bite a small trail of hot kisses down Emma's clavicle to her nipples, but they most certainly don't do that even if Regina is undressing Emma in her foyer, even if Emma has shown up with this terrifying request. So instead she covers Emma with a towel and then expertly, clinically reaches under to unhook and slide off her bra, one gesture that does not tease or tempt or cross a boundary. 

Emma says nothing, and when Regina shoots her a quick glance to make sure this is ok she sees that Emma is biting her lip, but otherwise nothing. So she asks, "Is this okay?"

"Yeah."

The jeans are harder work. The button is too intimate, the zipper is too intimate, but Regina manages both. But Emma's not really helping to wriggle them off and not until Regina mutters through gritted teeth, "Emma!" and Emma, startled as if from a dream, bends over amd fluidly kicks and pulls her pants off. 

Regina wraps another towel around her midsection. Emma is swaying now. "Did you drink tonight?" Regina asks her. 

"No."

Regina sighs. "What can I do, Emma?"

"Pressure. Could you?"

Regina looked at her, confusion marring her features. "Pressure?"

"Yeah," and Emma's looking at her, really looking at her, as if trying to figure something out. Eventually she gives her head a little shake. Yes. Decided. 

"On my body," Emma says. "Fuck. Could you--could we--?"

Regina's eyebrows shoot up. "Sleep together?"

"Yes. No. Yes." And Emma has to stop, because Emma has burst into tears. 

Regina poofs them into the bedroom. "Are you having a panic attack, dear?" she muses quietly, pushing an errant strand from Emma's face. 

Emma shrugs her shoulder, and Regina understands. Yes. She slides open the sheets and pushes Emma onto the bed and then carefully shifts her body on top of Emma's, head on her chest and legs wrapped around her, layers of clothing and towels between them. 

The heat is pleasant, and it's altogether weird but not bad. Perfect. Except Emma's so, so sad. 

Emma exhales quietly. "Like this."

Emma's body is solid. Her body is perfect. Amd Regina knows it is unfair to everybody to love Emma this much. To Emma. Henry. The Charmings. Hook. 

But. 

She can tilt her nose into Emma's neck to breathe her as they begin to relax. She can hold her. 

Regina does not sleep. And Emma does not stir for a long time. When she does, she wraps both arms around Regina, carefully. 

In the dark, Emma's voice is steadier. "I had a panic attack."

Regina waits, but she doesn't go on. She pulls her a little closer, and feels Emma soften and pull her close. 

"Shh," Regina finally murmurs, unsure if Emma is even awake enough to hear her. "It can wait until morning."

By way of response, Emma's hands find Regina's hair and thread her fingers there, caressing Regina's temples. Now Regina feels hot tears spring to her eyes, and she tenses, ready to pull away, but then Emma speaks. 

"It's okay, Regina."

And Regina lifts her head, her eyes bright and dark and shiny, to meet Emma's level green gaze, amd something snaps inside Regina, years of waiting, and she bends to kiss Emma. 

Velvet and heat, warm mouths and tongues close over one another, shy then faster. I love you, Regina thinks incoherently. I love you. 

When she pulls back, she sees Emma's eyes brimming. She brings her lips down softly one, two, three times to kiss away the tracks slowly making their way down her beloved's face. 

"Shhh," Regina whispers, something vivid and fierce and alive thrashing behind her ribcage. "Sleep. The rest will wait." 

And, like a miracle, they sleep.


End file.
